


I'll sing for you

by Ravenclawpride06



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Faceless Arya, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 21:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18533533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclawpride06/pseuds/Ravenclawpride06
Summary: Set post 8x1. Gendry wants it bad. Arya wants it worse. Was going to more explicit but I left it vague, felt it fit better in the end. All the pining!Not very well edited - I wrote it on my phone.





	I'll sing for you

Arya can't take her eyes off him as he marches into Winterfell on horseback. Moreover, she finds she doesn't want to. Once he passes she finds herself winding back through the crowds, never taking her eyes off his fur clad back.

Later she finds it impossible to concentrate and reminds herself there are more important things for her to do than think on a boy. A man grown, a voice in the back of her mind corrects her and she is surprised that it sounds like Sansa. 

She grabs a peice of parchment from her table and tucks it under her furs, heading for the forge. 

Her exchange with Gendry has her carefully honed facade slipping and it is this that makes her realise how dangerous he could be. She vows to keep a close eye on him and tells herself that it is for tactical reasons and even she doesn't quite believe herself.

It is harder to hide from him than the others. She's used to being able to blend in yet his eyes seek her out in every shadow. By the time he's done a double take she's gone and he's left questioning his sanity. What it means though is that she's yet to get a read on him and that's troubling her. If there's a way she could get close to him - and she smirks at her stupidity - of course there is.

She wears the face of a simple serving girl and stows away in the kitchen until it's dark outside and empty inside. She snatches some leftovers and arranges them on a tray, trying not to spend time fussing over what they look like and failing. Carefully, she makes her way to the forge. If spying has taught her anything it's that he will be there, won't have eaten since the morning and he will be alone.

Despite the cold he's working only in his breeches and though she knows it allows him freedom of movement, it doesn't stop her mouth going dry and making to turn round. She's wearing a servants face though and she has let herself make more noise than usual both in an attempt to get his attention whilst not letting his suspicions rise. He glances in her direction for half a second.

'What?' She isn't used to the clipped tone and she is taken a little a back. He's kind and gentle and makes jokes in every situation.

'Ser Gendry. My lord.' She stammers, pretending to be flustered. 'I brought you some dinner.'

'And why would you do that?' He says, with no hint of a smile as there had been when he asked her 'and why would you need that?'

'Well, er,' she flushed 'Lady Stark noticed that you weren't at dinner and told me to bring you something.' He looked up then but through her and she began to wish she'd never come. 

'Lady Stark?' He asked with an arched eyebrow. 

She could hear the question in his voice, 'the elder one my Lord, with the red hair,' she said gesturing at her own hair. She saw his shoulders drop and he turned back to his forge.

'Leave it on the workbench, I'll eat when I'm done.'

She approached him then, the serving girl was pretty and watching the muscles play across his back had her stomach tight and her underclothes wet with need. How would it be with him? She felt wrong thinking it but he would never know it was her. She could fuck him and then never have to face the consequences. She cleared her throat when she was behind him. 'You know, my Lord you're very handsome.' This would be enough to catch the attention of any man and Gendry set his tools down on the bench and hung his head. She took a step closer and her skirts touched the back of his legs. She ran her hand up his bicep and over his back, her core fluttering at the feel of his hard muscles under his skin.

Suddenly he span and caught her hand, squeezing a little harder than she expected. 'I'm not interested, just like I told that other girl last week.' He scoffed, 'I know you talk, thought you could succeed where she failed?'

Arya was stunned, she hadn't expected a rejection either. 'but my Lord, you're unattached.' She asked and he snorted and something in his face made her question her words. 'Aren't you?'

He turns from her once again and Arya is left reeling, exiting the forge without a second glance. Who the fuck did he think he Was? Had he come to Winterfell and formed an attachment to some girl, right under her nose, without her realising it? Well fuck him, she wasn't going to care.

Except she followed him for the next two weeks to see who this mystery girl was and where before he'd looked right at her, skulking in the shadows, now his eyes skimmed right over her.

She punches a wall before she realises she's directly outside Sansa's room and before she can leave, a head of auburn curls pops out, takes in her bleeding hand and drags her inside.

'Sansa!' She begins to complain but is silenced by the sting of alcohol on her knuckles and isn't able to repress the surprised look in Sansa's direction. 

'I happened to get quite good at tending wounds whilst you were away,' and Arya grimences at Ramsey's unspoken name. Sansa, sensing her sister's wrath quickly changes the subject. 'What a nice night for punching walls. Who was it this time?'

Arya quickly replies 'noone,' before catching the look on Sansa's face and remembering their promise to be honest. 'The blacksmith.'

'The blacksmith?' Sansa raises an eyebrow, 'He won't make you a weapon?' She guesses and if only it were that simple.

'We have history.' Arya admits sullenly.   

'Oh... oh. That blacksmith.' Arya looks daggers at her sister for her tone of voice. Sansa is not the least bit bothered and beams at her sister, wrapping her hand. 'I've noticed him, he's a handsome man.' She's positively grinning at Arya and it's making her sick.

'Well underneath it all he's a stupid bullheaded boy!' 

Sansa claps a hand to her head and whispers 'fuck.' And Arya stares at her sister's pretty little mouth, wondering how such a word left it. 'I knew he wanted you. Why didn't you tell me that you want him just as bad?'

'What?' Arya practically screeches.

'His eyes follow you everywhere you go. Whenever I go to check on how our weapon count is looking he wants to know if I've seen you and Gods, don't get me started on what he looks like when you're training in the yard. Forge production practically grinds to a stop.'

Arya stares at her sister as if she'd just told her she planned to join the faceless men. Her head spinning she stands to exit.

'Have fun,' Sansa says with a wicked smile.

Her mind is on overdrive all the way back to her room. There's no way she wouldn't notice that. She's trained to notice. I  guess I could test the theory she thinks to herself. I guess I could stop sneaking around and place myself in full view and take stock of his reaction.

It's not what she's used to and at first she isn't sure she likes it but then she'll make eye contact with Gendry through the smoke of the forge and the resulting flip in her belly has her wanting more. She spends a lot of her time sitting on the edge of the battlements, swinging her legs and calling the odd direction to those training below. When her eyes aren't trained on her students they're on the forge, and cursing the layers he wears.

It's a day like this when he appears at the entrance to the forge and beckons her down. Pretending not to notice when she slips from the battlements and lands in a crouch. She hears a smattering of claps and thinks indignantly, I didn't do it for you.

She stands a little closer to him than necessary and looks for a reaction. He smiles at her warmly but steps back, placing a bench between them. She smirks, and wonders if his thoughts are as naughty as hers. He reaches for a weapon high on a shelf and she feels a wave of excitement that is nothing to do with the strip of exposed skin between his shirt and breeches.

She takes it from him with reverence, not surprised that the balance is just right. She tests it and smiles up at him whispering 'thank you.'

He steps closer to her, close enough so he's looking down at her 'Arya-'.

'Gendry!' Arya shivers with tension as Ser Davos calls to him from the entrance of the forge.

Something inside her breaks when he moves away and she has to hold back a sob.

Sleep eluded her. Thoughts of him were driving her to distraction. She dragged a hand through her hair and gave up even on the illusion of sleep. Her body thrumming like a string that had recently been plucked. She considered touching herself but that had only led to disappointment and an empty feeling in recent weeks. 

Fuck. She had to find him and now. Her desire for him was clouding her judgement. She stretched and opened the door quickly and quietly and instantly collided with something rock hard.

'Fuck,' a rough male voice grunted and she was caught in strong arms. 'Arya.' He said as she shushed him and pulled him into the room. How long had he been stood outside her door? She'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't even heard him. Sloppy.

'Gendry? What are you doing here?'

'Why were you leaving?' He answered her question with a question of his own, though she suspected the answer was the same to both questions. He slides onto the end of the bed, disbelief that he's actually here painted on his face.

'Don't you dare change your mind.'

He stares at her startled, wondering how it was that she knew the truth so well.

'I know that look Gendry Waters and if you back out now I swear to the old Gods and the new I'll-'.

He laughs humourlessly, 'but you're a-'.

She wants to say fuck you, Gendry but she knows that she needs to convince him, to change his mind. So instead she says, 'You can hammer me, I promise I'll sing for you.' 

There's a split second of shock in his eyes and then before she can register it her back slams into the door and his hands feel as though they're everywhere at once and his lips are on hers and it feels as though her whole body is burning from the inside out.

It's all she can do to catch her breath and kiss him back. He spins her and she feels her legs hit the bed and shortly after her back hits the matress. He crawls up her and she thinks she's never seen such raging desire in anybody else's eyes before. She sighs and he slows down, his features melting into something different, another expression she's never seen directed at her before. 

'Arya,' He says and it sounds like a prayer.

'I want this,' she says, looking directly in his eyes. 'I've never wanted anything more.'

The darkness is filled with sighs and moans that don't stop until the early hours of the morning. 

He wakes up with her curled into his side and only dares to move when she starts to stir. He brushes her hair behind her ear and dares himself to whisper 'I love you,' but as he looks down at the highborn girl in his arms there's still yet something that stops him and it's the knowledge that it can go nowhere but between her sheets in the dead of night.


End file.
